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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28643652">Dullness, Eyes, and Pain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>:), Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst, Author is a TommyInnit Apologist (Video Blogging RPF), Dream and technos friendship is iffy, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I dont like it either, Its very apparent, Panic Attacks, Philza's not such a great dad to tommy in this, Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Whump, also!, comments are great, i wanted to only make one chapter but will probably make two, kinda mentions neglect!, kinda want to turn it into a fic aswell, kinda???, like four at most, my first time actually trying on a fic, philza centric, ranboo angst, ranboo basically replaces tommy in the sbi in this, tbh tommy deserves better, the last three are just mentioned, these are all the characters and on no way reflect on the streamers!, will be updated like in an hour, wow my titles suck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:54:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,493</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28643652</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>While I was watching Ranboo's stream from the 7th when he walked into the dog house and later commented on his character not liking eye contact I got an idea</p><p>:)</p><p>"He couldn’t see, and in the back of his brain, he recognized a pain that felt like it should be searing but instead was dull. Dull like the dog’s eyes that just wouldn’t stop staring, like Tommy’s voice as he told Ranboo the horrors of his exile, like Tubbo’s voice when he cast his best friend out of the country they started, like Techno’s eyes he spawned the withers that led to the destruction of his little brother’s last hope.</p><p>Ranboo didn’t like dull things,"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo &amp; Technoblade &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo &amp; Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>795</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Dog's Aren't Very Cool...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>AHHHHHHHHHHH</p><p>Ok! This is my first time trying on a fic, so enjoy!</p><p>Also, slight mention of neglect, mentions of past trauma, and the main focus is a panic attack! Please don't read if any of those upset you!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Techno and Philza are the only ones who can go against Dream and win,” Ranboo’s tone was finally steady, a vast difference from the shaky and anxiety sounding timbre he had only a couple of hours earlier.</p><p>Currently, Ranboo was walking around Technoblade’s, the guy who just blew up an entire nation with his father, house. Said father had decided to let Ranboo stay after blowing up his home, although L’manberg had never felt much like a home. Everyone else seemed to disagree, but all L’manberg signified to Ranboo was a cruel cycle of abuse, a damned country started by damned people. </p><p>Although, most of the people who fought for L’manberg, or Manberg? New L’manberg? There were too many names, Ranboo often had a hard time deciding what to call the country, but most of the people who still fought for it had been fighting from the beginning. The only people Ranboo was certain still cared about the country were Tommy, Tubbo, and Ghostbur, all of them friends. Fundy, Quackity, and Niki all left the country to burn, Niki quite literally.</p><p>Ranboo wasn’t exactly thinking about where he was wandering, just going in circles and getting Experience from random mobs. He opened a door and was surprised to find at least fifty dogs, all staring at him. Even if eye contact from animals was never as bad as eye contact from humans, it was still overwhelming to have dozens of hounds bred to kill and slaughter by someone dubbed the Blood-God staring directly at him.</p><p>While none of the stares were menacing, it still sent Ranboo into a state of panic that he couldn’t quite explain. He noticed that he could feel his heart speed up, and he almost felt nauseous, he felt similar to when he was in his small obsidian room by the river. Ranboo hated that room, the walls, and floor a void black with dull charcoal-colored patches, while the roof was an inky color with amethyst cracks dripping a similar colored unidentified liquid.</p><p>At first, the room was comforting, the steady drips being a reminder that time continues no matter what, that there’s always another day, the obsidian feeling grounding, reminding him of the tall pillars from a home he once had, far away and nearly forgotten. The signs helped keep his head clear until they didn’t. Until they confused him more than helped, until the room felt suffocating, until the people he saw as friends turned to enemies, and enemies turned to friends of friends.</p><p>What was he thinking about? Right, eye contact, and dogs- but mostly eye contact.</p><p>The dogs all had the same colored collar, a bloody red, and eyes that should be filled with something, anything, but instead were empty. A dull black too much like the obsidian of walls that felt like they trapped Ranboo in a prison and wouldn’t ever let him go. Almost like the obsidian would turn into a void and swallow him, only for him to never see his friends again, never see the people he cared about, the people he loved.</p><p>Ranboo couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, at first, he thought the ache in his throat was it closing, but then he felt something warm trickle down. </p><p>Oh</p><p>His throat wasn’t closing, well it was, but the feeling was him scratching at his neck trying to breathe, to open it from the outside. Ranboo knew he should stop, knew tearing open his throat would definitely do more bad than good, but he couldn’t stop. He wanted to, but couldn’t. Just like how he wanted to help all his friends, but couldn’t without being labeled a traitor. He wanted everyone to leave these stupid sides behind, but they couldn’t.</p><p>Why was everything he wanted so out of reach?</p><p>He couldn’t see, and in the back of his brain, he recognized a pain that felt like it should be searing but instead was dull. Dull like the dog’s eyes that just wouldn’t stop staring, like Tommy’s voice as he told Ranboo the horrors of his exile, like Tubbo’s voice when he cast his best friend out of the country they started, like Techno’s eyes he spawned the withers that led to the destruction of his little brother’s last hope.</p><p>Ranboo didn’t like dull things, reminding him too much of sides and the agony they create. Ranboo would rather be in constant suffering, the kind that came from water being thrown on him, that came from being thrown in the Dragon’s Breath by other Endermen because they didn’t like him, the type that- wait, what?</p><p> </p><p>“Kid?!” Phil’s voice cut through that, and Ranboo decided to ignore the memory, knowing he wouldn't know of it comes the next morning. Phil’s voice was still distant, sounding like how fog looked. However far away Phil sounded, he still managed to bring Ranboo back, even just a little.</p><p>Ranboo felt tired all of a sudden, all of the adrenalin brought by the sudden eye contact from the wolves gone, all the pain from his throat hitting him like a tsunami. He felt nothing as he passed out, only the numb comfort of unconsciousness. </p><p>Little did Ranboo know that Phil had been trying to talk to him for a while, calling out his name, waving his hand in front of the younger’s eyes, hell, Phil had even tried staring him directly in the eyes. Phil knew that it was dangerous, but the kid wasn’t responding. Ranboo was just crumpled in front of the door of the shack that held what Techno had dubbed the Hound Army. The name was bittersweet, a reminder of Tommy helping Techno, the family being so close to being back together again, only for Tommy to return to the country that threw him out, that used him.</p><p>Right now wasn’t the time to focus on his youngest, although said boy would argue that his father never “had time” to worry about him, yet again; a topic for another time. Currently, Phil had a Half Enderman Half Unknown kid who had a mix of a red, green, and brown liquid on his nails, some of it had already dried. The boy had crumpled into an uncomfortable-looking position, his legs folded to the side while his fingers clawed at his throat, quite affectively Phil would add, and his eyes had shut tightly, chin pointed towards the roof. The hybrid had managed to make himself look small and meek despite being the second tallest on the server, and Phil wasn’t going to lie; Ranboo had defeated the Ender Dragon with a steak in a different world.</p><p>He had made himself seem so small and weak, and Phil didn’t know how he could help. He hadn’t spent a lot of time with Ranboo, didn’t’ know him well enough to know what he liked, the music that calmed him. He had no way of comforting this new child, only knowing the two biggest things that made him freak out: water and eye contact.</p><p>Phil had no idea how to react when Ranboo passed out, lulling forwards into his arms. He had no idea how to rinse off his hands, covered in his own blood, and the cut on his neck caused by said extremities. He had no idea how to help the boy when he inevitably woke up, at least Phill hoped it was inevitable.</p><p>But by God, if Phil wasn’t going to figure it out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Phil Is Cool Though</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Philza walked back to his house, the one he shared with his eldest son, and ignored the creeping feeling of guilt when he had to actively ignore the word favorite when describing Technoblade. It had always bothered Phil when Techno had joked with his brothers about being the favorite, always denying it, but eventually, the joke turned into a reality.</p><p>Phil decided not to focus on it. If he couldn’t bring himself to look his dead child in the eyes, or to forgive his youngest for betraying his elder brother, then who could judge him? Sure, it wasn’t Ghostbur’s fault that he was a haunting reminder of Phil murdering one of his own, and it certainly wasn’t Tommy’s fault that he had been traumatized and forced to fight as a child, and Phil couldn’t exactly blame Tommy for clinging onto Wilbur’s last existing creation, but still.</p><p>Phil wasn’t that bad of a father… Right?</p><p>Phil was snapped out of his thoughts by the sudden silence, a vast change from the quite noisy chatter from Dream and Technoblade, the two ecstatic from completing one of their biggest goals. While both of them would have been able to accomplish the task by themself, the intimidation factor that came with the knowledge of the Blood God and Dream teaming up was likely to deter any other nations from rising.</p><p>“Okay well, while that was fun and all, I’m going to have to ask you to leave now. I can’t exactly have any-” Techno paused for a moment as if he was thinking of a label for Dream’s ruling style, before continuing “Whatever you are, on my property. I appreciate the help and all, but this place is for Anarchists only, nerd.”</p><p>Dream scoffed, and Philza assumed he rolled his eyes under the mask. “Please, that rule doesn’t seem to apply to Tommy, he’s the opposite of an Anarchist. If I recall correctly, you even hid him from me here! Consider it an apology for being an awful friend, okay?”</p><p>Techno had tensed at the mention of Tommy, but that didn’t seem to stop Dream from pushing the topic. Before Techno had a chance to respond, well more like lunge taking in his expression and stance, Philza heard an Enderman like scream, and while he immediately thought of Edward, his mind supplied a much more worrying conclusion.</p><p>Phil threw a pearl before either man in front of him could even draw their swords, hell, was gone before either could even look for where the screech came from.</p><p>As soon as Philza had landed, he ran inside. He glanced at Edward, then quickly looked around the room, but then he noticed that there were particles, a more vibrant amethyst than usual. The particles were more abundant than before, surrounding the Enderman in his boat, said creature was shaking so bad Phil almost thought he was going to tip the boat.</p><p>The strangest thing, however, was that even when the blonde looked Edward dead in the eye, he got no response. No shriek, no cry, only silence as the Enderman continued to stare out the window. Phil followed his gaze only to be met with unfinished foundations, foundations which held all of Techno’s dogs, and as soon as Phil put two and two together, he had never run faster.</p><p>Inside the deferred structure sat what had to be at least fifty dogs, but more noticeably, a particularly tall child with hands trying to gouge out his own throat. The was blood on the boy’s claws, a combination of green and red blood with some of it fading into a brown where the two colors mixed. Shallow breath could be heard as well as quiet mutterings of words resembling Stop and Please, there was even some Ender Rune, but Phil couldn’t understand most of it.</p><p>What he could understand was worrying, to say the least. It was muttered as Ranboo finally moved his hands away from his neck but instead plunged them into his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it.</p><p>“T⍑ᒷ|| ↸𝙹リ'ℸ ̣  ᒷ⍊ᒷリ ꖌリ𝙹∴ ∴⍑ᔑℸ ̣ 'ᓭ ⊣𝙹╎リ⊣ 𝙹リ!” Ranboo seemed to be looking at the picture of Tommy on the walls, it was of him and Wilbur, the real Wilbur, on a beach but someone had edited it so that his face was stretched wide. It brought a feeling of culpability to Phil, but he decided to push it down and focus on helping the hybrid in front of him. Another phrase was muttered as Ranboo slammed his eyes shut and let out a wail, “Hᒷ'ᓭ ⊣𝙹╎リ⊣ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ꖌ╎ꖎꖎ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷᒲ ᔑꖎꖎ!”</p><p>Once Phil had finally gotten Ranboo’s attention, he passed out. Phil guessed that the pain from basically slitting his own throat had caught up to him, or maybe it was the exhaustion that the young hybrid always seemed to suffer from. Phil knew that hostile mob hybrids could rarely sleep, almost as if their player half was always on high alert of their own body. Techno was the same way, never able to sleep for more than a few hours at a time.</p><p>The blonde decided to carry Ranboo to the bed that Techno kept upstairs, he didn’t bother asking as the pig had never touched the bed. Sure, he used it once to set his spawn, but again, he had always had sleeping problems, and over time had accustomed himself to little to no sleep at all.</p><p>When Philza picked up the younger, he was almost concerned about how easy it was, but quickly remembered that Endermen were gangly. If you somehow got to look at an Enderman’s face without having it storm you while shouting in rage, you would see how their cheekbones were the most prominent features of their face excluding the glowing magenta eyes. You could tell that their ribs were poking out when they were in well-lit areas, although most of the time their inky skin hid the starved looking physique.</p><p>Phil had always assumed that the creatures were so thin and lanky to hep with the teleporting, maybe akin to birds having hollow bones to aid with flight. As the winged man was walking into the house, Ranboo shifted in his arms, muttering more Ender Rune.</p><p>“Pꖎᒷᔑᓭᒷ, ╎ℸ ̣  ⍑⚍∷ℸ ̣ ᓭ, i-” Ranboo’s voice cut out only to come back more distorted and distressed, “I ᔑᒲ ꖎ╎ꖌᒷ ||𝙹⚍! i !¡∷𝙹ᒲ╎ᓭᒷ, ⋮⚍ᓭℸ ̣  ꖎᒷℸ ̣  ᒲᒷ ⊣𝙹!” Towards the end of Ranboo’s pleas, his voice sounded like two different people talking at once, two completely different pitches. One was an almost ear-splitting high, while the other Phil struggled to hear, both pleading to whoever was plaguing his mind right now.</p><p>Phil had just discovered how he could wash off Ranboo’s cuts and hands when Techno had walked in, muttering something about a “green burden” before seeing Ranboo curled up on the bed that didn’t quite fit him. He drew his sword before seeing the crusted blood on the youngers claws and the matching colors on his wound.</p><p>“Erm, is he going to be okay, Phil?” Techno’s usual bored cadence having a hint of worry seeping through, “His throat looks pretty, uh, pretty torn up. What are his hearts at?”</p><p>Phil looked over to Ranboo, resting the back of his hand against the younger’s forehead, and shrugged, “He’s going to be fine, maybe a scar depending on how effective healing potions are on him, but he’ll definitely wake up with three lives left.”</p><p>Techno nodded, climbing down the ladder to grab some healing pots, while Phil stayed beside the bed and grabbed Ranboo’s hand to get a closer look at the extremity. Phil noticed how only Ranboo’s face seemed to have the split colors, as both his feet and hands shared a void black color. Ranboo shared the claws of a usual Enderman, they were sharp and helped the feral creatures grip into players, able to easily take a little over two hearts away from an unarmoured person. Currently, said claws were a sorrowful sight, covered in a quickly thickening and multicolored liquid. </p><p>Philza grabbed the bright pink potion Techno had handed him and cloth from a random nearby chest. He dampened the cloth with a small bit of the healing pot and wiped down Ranboo’s hands, effectively getting rid of the dried ichor. He then grabbed some bandages from the same chest, happy that Techno kept basic medical supplies even if he rarely needed them, and before pouring the rest of the mending liquid into the wound. Phil wrapped the bandages around the Enderman’s neck before standing back and giving another once over of the teen, noticing some burns along Ranboo’s face.</p><p>Phil frowned, coming to the realization that Ranboo’s own tears burned him. Not knowing what to do with this knowledge, Phil dismissed it, for now. He grabbed another healing pot, this one significantly smaller, and gently rubbed it into Ranboo’s skin, hoping that the burns would be healed by the time he woke up. The blonde decided that he would help Ranboo through whatever he was going through. Phil had already failed two of his sons, he wasn’t going to fail Ranboo.</p><p>Wait, Ranboo wasn’t his son. No, Ranboo was just a child that Phil had decided to help. He wasn’t one of Phil’s sons, and it would stay like that. Ranboo was just a charmingly awkward teen who would fit right into his family and would obviously benefit from the support-</p><p>God, Phil was in for a long couple of weeks, wasn’t he?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Morning After</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this is so short! I meant for ot to be longer, but I can't think of anywhere to go from here in this chapter and I really wanted to get something out since it's been almost two months.</p><p>I hope you enjoy anyways!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ranboo is scared. He’s alone in a room he recognizes but doesn’t remember, a situation all too familiar. He hates it. He hates how his mind can’t remember the most simple things, even things to do with his basic survival. He forced to piece together what happened with nothing more than the clues from his injuries. </p><p>Ranboo reaches up a shaking hand to his neck, he feels a bandage. Weird, he doesn’t remember patching himself up? Actually, he just remembers dull pain and panic. That makes sense. It happens a lot actually. Something will be too much and he’ll shut down, panic enveloping his mind, and he’ll usually collapse after a certain amount of time. Ranboo looks around, he sees a couple of bookshelves on the opposite side, along with an enchantment table, a bell, and an almost unnoticeable barrel.</p><p>Oh. This was Technoblade’s room. That’s weird, why was he here? Shouldn’t he be in his shack? Ranboo hears the footsteps before he hears the knocking. He knows it’s Technoblade, the Piglin having heavier footsteps tan Phil, as well as his hooves having a sharper sound than Phil’s more birdlike feet.</p><p>“Hello? You up yet?”</p><p>Ranboo nods before realizing that Technoblade, despite how he’s been dubbed the Blood God, doesn’t have the omnipotence that his nickname insinuates, “Yeah,” Ranboo cringes at how his voice shakes. He isn’t scared of Technoblade. The man has let him stay with Phil and him for a while, and while he had offered to murder his parrots that one time, he had never directed any violence towards Ranboo. Except for when he spawned at least twenty withers in his sorta-home. That wasn’t directed at him though, it was more so directed at two broken sixteen-year-olds who were expected to run a damned country better than their adult predecessors.</p><p>Technoblade walked in, he carried a glass of water that had a strange tint to it. He set the glass down before speaking, “It has like, one or two drops of a healing potion.” A look of panic crossed the man’s face, Ranboo was pretty sure he’s never seen Technoblade express anything other than a look of boredom or manic glee before, “Those don’t hurt Endermen like they do undead, right?”</p><p>Ranboo laughed, “What? Of course, they don’t. Why would they?” He watched the man in front of him shrug</p><p>“I don’t know if Endermen are some kind of weird undead. Nobody knows their origins, but it’s easy to look at a skeleton or a literal rotting corpse and be like, ‘Yeah, you look like the opposite of alive right now.’ “</p><p>Ranboo chuckles at that, “No, we’re not undead. I actually don’t think Endermen are that far off from players, I mean they even say hello a lot.”</p><p>Technoblade tilted his head, “Huh?”</p><p>“Yeah, like they mostly say things like hello, what’s up, and occasionally you’ll get a ‘Look for the eye,’ and other times they talk in Ender Rune. But, yeah, Endermen know English, or at least the greetings.”</p><p>The two fell silent, not quite sure how to continue the conversation. Techno thought that if Wilbur were around, the real one, he would’ve laughed at the two before calling them socially constipated and would’ve picked up the conversation, helping it flow until dinner time. Wilbur was always better at things like that than his brothers. Technoblade decided he’d rather not focus on his family, and more on the teen who was still practically shaking in his bed.</p><p>“Phil should be home any minute.” It was a simple statement, but for some reason, Ranboo could feel the twisting claw of nervousness in his gut. Phil was nice, but he would probably try to talk about what happened earlier. Or was it last night? The night before? Ranboo had no idea, the lengths of his “naps” after panic attacks were never constant.</p>
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